


Elementary Zoology

by videogamedoc87



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/videogamedoc87/pseuds/videogamedoc87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley always pays his debts. Especially when he owes his continued existence to the most famous consulting detective in the world. Or at least London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sky was still, a hint of rain in the clouds that gathered. The birds that had filled the air with their songs were now nowhere to be seen or heard. An imposing figure strode slowly down a deserted highway, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingertips. His demeanor was sinister though his stature held no reason for fear. As he approached the crossroads another figure appeared, a woman dressed in tatty jeans and a t-shirt that had definitely seen better days. Her red hair was in wild, unkempt curls and draped all the down to the middle of her back. As she watched the approach her hands strayed towards the matching Colt 1911s strapped to her thighs. Her fingers twitched, tapping the triggers of her cannons in a nervous rhythmic pattern. 

The man smirked, “Really darling, that’s not necessary. This is a neutral dealing, no evil intent present. Cross my non-existent heart.” “You can’t even spell neutral,” she hissed as her angered face twisted into a teasing smirk. He laughed before grabbing her in a bear hug and lifting her diminutive frame off the ground. She squealed with delight as he twirled her dizzily in a playful circle before setting her down as he grabbed her face for the first kiss they’ve shared since their original deal almost a century ago. “Crowls, you’re looking dapper as always,” the redhead said. “I think I like you best in literary agents.” 

“Well, Rose, I personally feel like the demon makes the man; and not vice versa. Hence, I will make whatever vessel I choose the pure essence of sex. Isn’t that the reason you made the deal in the first place?” Rose grinned, “You are so very correct. I’ve enjoyed the last century and I intend to enjoy many more with the sexiest demon in creation.” “Ah, dear Rose, that’s exactly why I’ve summoned you here this lovely Hallow’s Eve.” Her fingers twitched towards her guns again knowing full well never to fully trust the love of her long life. Crowley’s grin turned slightly malicious, “I have a mission for you. I think you’ll enjoy it, consider it an anniversary present of sorts.” 

“If you even think of saying ‘Win’ or ‘chester’ even in the same paragraph then I am gonna Hitler/Ava us right now!” Crowley rolled his eyes, “I’ve given up on Moose and Squirrel for now, I need you to deliver a package that’s all.” “I have always fancied the brown shorts,” Rose half-giggled still a bit uneasy at the prospect of a “Crowley Mission.” They never ended well. Crowley snapped his fingers and messenger bag appeared on Rose’s shoulder. “Just drop this off at 221 B Baker Street, London, present day. Be sure it is delivered into the hands of one S. Holmes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. If I’m supposed to tell him it’s from Moriarty then you can go to heaven right now.” Crowley laughed. “No, no. You can actually tell him Crowley sends it with his regards. He’ll get all huffy I’m sure.” “That’s the typical response I get whenever I mention your name.” She turned around and was instantaneously standing outside the door specifically mentioned in her suspicious assignment. Rose squared her shoulders and knocked on the door. A moment later she heard scuffling and multiple voices muttering and getting closer to the door. It swung open suddenly and there was the man himself, one Sherlock Holmes.

“Oh my Lucifer, he was serious,” she muttered in slight awe that her lover was telling the truth. She wasn’t completely convinced that a Winchester wasn’t standing on the other side. The look Sherlock was giving her made Rose nervous but she took a deep breath and said, “Special delivery for S. Holmes from Crowley. He says enjoy and he sends his regards.” She couldn’t tell if the reaction she got was fear, anger, or pure revulsion. 

“I’m fairly certain I would like to respectfully decline that package as I would like to live a bit longer this time. And I have the utmost confidence that opening that parcel would prove potentially problematic to my desired longevity.” Rose quirked an eyebrow, “ You may be correct but if I don’t deliver this we both know he will find another way to make you take it. Better if you just get it over with.”  
He reluctantly stretched out his hands to receive the package knowing full well that it would be a huge and most likely deadly mistake. Rose quickly handed over the bag and stood there waiting for Sherlock to open it. Sherlock stared at her, “ Am I expected to compensate you in some way for this delivery?” She shook her head, “No, I wanna see what’s in it.” Sherlock repeated her earlier eyebrow quirk. “Well, I suppose social decorum says I should invite you in.” He stood back and held the door for her. "Oh, I think I'll stand back here and watch. I don't think it's a box of exploding weapons that will kill us both, but experience has made me a little weary of staring into the mouth of one of Crowley's unknowns." She lifted her hair back and behind her right ear to reveal a scar that started at the top of her head and disappeared down into the front of her shirt. "And he even loves me." 

“I’m not surprised. I do know what he is. Demons are notoriously sadistic creatures,” Sherlock replied with a sniff, leaning in to study the scar more closely. “What did this? Some sort of blade?” Rose grimaced. “A knife. Made to kill demons. Or hurt them permanently, combine that with holy water grenades and you’ve got the makings of Crowley’s idea of a party.” “Hmm.” Sherlock grunted as he cautiously unhooked the straps holding the messenger bag closed. With flick of his hand the bag hung open, and a furry head poked out. "So, is this an inside joke or have you and Crowley been tradin' mogwai's back and forth. Do not feed that thing after midnight...actually, do...I think it could be fun." Rose half-joked wondering if crowley really did just give Sherlock a pet. The look on Sherlock’s face could be classified in many ways but the most prevalent emotion was unadulterated glee. “Oh good. He promised me a hellhound. I was hoping for a full-grown specimen but this will do.” 

Rose’s eyes got wide. “THAT’S a HELLHOUND?!” “A hellhound pup to be precise,” Sherlock replied grabbing the creature by the scruff and holding it up where he could study it better.   
"How can I see it? I thought they were all Sue Storm?" "I've not even the foggiest what that is a reference to. It would be more advantageous if you spoke to me in terms I am familiar with as an assumption could be made that I know nothing of your infantile American dribble. I was dead for quite some time, you see." Rose giggled. "I bet I've been dead longer. Hellhounds are usually invisible to humans. Demons see them and humans who have sold their soul to hell can see them. But you seem to be the exception to the rule. I knew you were perceptive but I didn't realize it extended to the supernatural."

Sherlock huffed. "I see everything. And you would do well to remember that." "Do you see me?" Rose crossed the threshold timidly as she had never been a fan of Crowley's pets. She thought even a puppy shouldn't be trusted and kept her eyes on Sherlock and the pup while inching closer to the bag. "Ah, Canis Inferni this is truly a magnificent specimen despite the breeding." Sherlock ignored her question. 

Rose wrinkled her nose. "If you say so. Why did you want one in the first place " Sherlock ignored her question again merely turning to mount the stairs and beckoning her to follow. "John!" he bellowed, "We have company!" As Rose climbed the stairs she could hear voices steadily rising in volume before one let out a girlish shriek. "Really Sherlock? A bloody hellhound? What was Crowley thinking!?!?" Rose sidled into the large open plan flat and was stopped dead in her tracks. Looking around she couldn't spot a devil's trap and the two men in front of her were too busy arguing to notice something was amiss. "Oh, calm down. You're ever the woman. It's merely an infant. Can you even begin to fathom the opputuni--is something the matter Miss...?" The shorter, stocky man raised his head and peered at Rose thru small circular glasses on the edge of his nose. His cheeks flushed as he stuttered, "Sherlock, you didn't say, I , that is to say, er...hello Miss..?"

"The name's Rose and I'd really appreciate if someone would let me out!" she said stomping her foot. John hurried over, and using a knife he pulled from a pocket, scratched at a seemingly unmarked piece of floor. "We keep it invisible," he stammered. "Easier to trap unwanted guests which I don't believe you are. Unwanted t-that is." John blushed profusely as Rose stepped carefully onto the carpet. She glanced at Sherlock who was apparently having a staring contest with the hellhound. "Maybe you could explain why my lover wanted me to bring that creature here?" she asked sliding onto the table her feet swinging a few inches above the ground. "It's payment I imagine," John said with a sigh. "Tea?" Rose waved the tea away with her hand. "Nah, being around those things makes me crave something a little stronger." "My dear, we, t-that is to say, a, always boil our tea with a bit of brandy. W-what's the use of it otherwise?" John shakily extended the tea once again with a trepidatious smile and befuddlement in his eyes. "M-may I ask you, if you please...what are you? No demon I've ever seen has had such, er, nigh angelic beauty." Rose dribbled a little tea out of her lips as she half-choak half-snorted a laugh. 

“Beauty? You are adorable aren’t you,” Rose said with a sardonic grin. She sipped at the tea, a look of surprise appearing on her face. “Hmmm, not bad actually. I’ll have to bring this idea to his majesty. He so loves new ways to drink tea. Now what exactly is Crowley paying Sherlock for?” John’s expression turned stormy. “It’s not something I enjoy discussing to be honest but, when Sherlock died the last time he did it on purpose to uncover a rather nasty plot in Hell to overthrow Crowley and install Abbadon on the throne. Needless to say Crowley was very grateful and promised to give Sherlock something he’s never had. I’d say he succeeded.”


	2. Chapter 2

"Indeed he has!" Sherlock chimed enthusiastically while raising the animals jowls to reveal multiple rows of razor sharp teeth. The puppy licked his nose causing him to instantly keel over and wretch out all the tea he'd been drinking. "Lemme guess, puppy breath not so cute on a hellhound, eh?" Rose laughed heartily as Sherlock continued to vomit profusely. John was staring and trying desperately not to laugh. He knew his friend wouldn’t appreciate it one bit. Quickly moving to the bathroom he gathered a stack of towels and wet a couple of cloths before rushing to Sherlock’s side. “Here we are, just take deep breaths of non-Hell scented air and I’m sure you’ll be fine.” The taller man glared at him, “I’m fine. Stop mothering me.” John threw up his hands and stepped back to stand by Rose as they watched Sherlock rise on trembling limbs and retreat hastily to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of sight, John let out a few excited giggles in short bursts covering his mouth after every one looking embarrassed by the noise and fearful his close friend would hear him. Rose crouched surreptitiously down toward the pup who was making quite a quick dent on the side of the counter he was gnawing on. "He's not so bad once you get a good look at him." She reached out to pet the little thing when he turned his attention from the counter to snap at her fingers taking the tip of her index finger clean off. "Ow! You little..." She instinctively reached for her colt until she was immediately interrupted by Sherlock's return from what sounded like wretching out his entire entrails. "Ah ah ah...that wouldn't be very nice killing the present I've received only moments after his arrival." Sherlock looked disapprovingly at the enormous hole in his counter. "Whatever shall I do with you, hmm?" He swiftly scooped the pup who showed no signs of aggression towards the detective. "Immediately loyal these pups, aren't they?"

"Mostly cause it thinks ur its mother," Rose said with a grin. "It imprints on the first thing it sees and that would be you. Mommy." Sherlock looked somehow amused and disapproving all at once. "Well, I shall endeavor to live up to that title. John would you be so kind as to run down to the butcher shop and pick up some raw meat scraps. I do know what they eat at least." John nodded and turned to scurry down the stairs. He stopped by Rose and offered his hand. She took it and leaned down to press a soft kiss the the back of her hand. "It was a pleasure Miss Rose. Please feel free to visit again." Rose blushed slightly, "The pleasure was all mine Doctor." With that John hurried down the steps. Rose made to leave as well but a small noise made her look back. Sherlock was sitting on the floor the pup cuddled under his chin and he appeared to be humming to it. "Will wonders never cease?" Rose muttered to herself before turning and reappearing at Crowley's side.   
"Well THAT was a thing that happened." Rose was exasperated at all of the seemingly impossible things she had just witnessed. "I have like a million questions, but I'll give you the top three. A) what the hell? B) Sherlock friggin Holmes? What'd he do to earn a hell-hound and C) how come we could all see it? I'm not a full-on demon so I usually only see traces of them. Also, his friend called me angelicly beautiful. That's a first." 

Crowley grinned. "Almost got your seven impossible things did you?" Rose stomped around her annoyance becoming tangible as fingers of steam began drifting up from a nearby lake. "You're so damn annoying sometimes! Remind me why I love you again?" "Because of my devilish wit and ridiculously sexy good looks. At least that's what you said last time we were in bed together. That was..." he paused to think. "Around 1975 I think." Rose rolled her eyes. "Seriously I want some answers. Obviously you've been keeping things from me. And you know how well that usually turns out for you." Crowley shuddered. "Very true. I don't wish for a repeat of 1967. Ever." Rose laughed so hard she fell over. "Oh Lucifer! You with long hair pretending to be Irish?! That mental images never gets old!" Crowley's expressin turned stony. "We don't talk about that or had you FORGOTTEN?!" he thundered, voice imbued with the power his position as King of Hell had given him. Rose stood up, a sullen, almost teenage-angsty, look on her face. "Sorry your highness," she said sarcastically. "It's all good, love. I just will never live down that hippie phase with you will I? I do miss the drugs though." "Crowls, I'm pretty sure that you being high on acid is what caused the Cuban Missile Crisis. Talk about a trip!" Crowley laughed a dark laugh his expression darkening at the end with a look of what appeared to be a regretful reminiscence. "Um, did I say something to upset you? Can someone say something that upsets you? I think that's my 7th. Are you....heh, sad about something?" Her uneasy giggle betrayed her newfound feeling of...was it pity for the 2nd most evil thing in all of creation? She was perplexed by her own emotion much less what she thought she was witnessing Crowley experience.

Crowley shook his head. "No love I'm fine. Just...I've lived a long bloody time and I have a few regrets. Not many mind you. But the ones I have are pretty big." Rose grabbed Crowley's hand and pulled him down onto the large leather sofa in his office. "Sit down and tell me all about it," Rose purred snuggling into Crowley's side shyly. He glared at her, "Stop patronizing me before you lose something important. Like your head." Rose rolled her eyes. "You only use that line when I'm close to a subject that makes you admit you have actual feelings." he glowered at her knowing full well that she was dangerously close to touching a nerve. His mind hovered over the thought that she might actually be right. He may actually have feelings. He cursed the brotherly duo that had all but cured him. He barely wish they had. This existence-this half in half out life was bothering him more than he let on. Or at least, than he thought he was letting on. "Is something....bothering you? can something bother you? Can you be bothered? Is it me?" A faint hint of desperation seeped into her voice against all of her best intentions. Evil as she may try to be, it wasn't in her nature to be completely emotionless. It was a flaw Crowley usually reminded her of. She was, after all, not a complete demon. Literally and figuratively.

She'd made the deal because she liked Crowley plain and simple. He'd been trolling for deals at a masquerade ball and the pair had hit it off instantly. Crowley had offered her eternal life with him and Rose had jumped at it. Her life had been pretty terrible before Crowley anyway. A neverending cycle of balls and being paraded around like a show pony. She was much happier being part demonic and using her powers to hunt other monsters. Crowley sighed, "The bloody Winchesters. Moose tried to cure me of my demonic nature but didn't finish the process. I don't particularly feel like I belong in Hell but I don't really belong on Earth either. This being stuck shite is bollocks." 

 

Crowley hushed, "I'm actually not feeling up to sharing if you can imagine that." Rose quietly acquiesced, "I don't really follow, but you know I get the whole space thing." She nuzzled into his neck with a silent understanding of his pain, even though she was clueless and a little apprehensive of his unsteadiness. "I'll just rest here while you..."her tones became more hushed, "think of...good ole times?" She was barely a whisper. Her brow furrowed then relaxed with a comfort she only felt with Crowley and also the only comfort Crowley had ever afforded anyone. He was too lost in his thoughts to realize that he was being benevolent and affectionate. Rose hoped against all reality that this affection would last. He had enjoyed toying with her need for human affection in the past so she was wary of this sudden change. 

Crowley sunk deeper into the sofa and sighed heavily. “Good ole times? Haven’t had many of those to be honest. I was crap in life and I only got to the top after a few hundred years in Hell. And that took so many backroom dealings and betrayals it made my head spin. I was perfectly happy. Well the demon equivalent anyway.” He trailed off lost in thought. Rose sat up and took his momentary distraction as an opportunity to really study the man beside her. His face was thinner and there were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked like he needed a good hot meal and about two days worth of sleep. 

 

"Did you just call me Rose?" Crowley snapped back to realize that he was still in the dungeon of the cursed Winchester duo's newfound hideout. Crowley thought to himself, "was that real? What was that? I don't dream." "I asked you a question sleeping beauty!" Dean was clever as always with his nicknames." I didn't think you slept. You snore like a chainsaw by the way. You do know you're a mouth breather right?" Dean chuckled to himself. Seeing Crowley with his head leaned back and mouth gaping wide open was a sight he hoped he'd never forget. "Oh, bollucks, I'm still here with you two imbecilic berks aren't I?" The older Winchester looked confused, “And where the fuck else would you be?” Sam came limping in slowly, “What’s going on in here? I heard yelling and some seriously loud snoring.” Crowley rolled his eyes, “It’s nothing you two need concern yourself with. I could do with some food. And some scotch if you have it. Not that rotgut the late Mr. Singer drank either. I know these Letter twats have the good stuff hidden somewhere.” The now, sort of, demon spouted all this quickly in an attempt to distract the Winchesters from asking him who Rose was. Dean and Sam exchanged eye rolls. 

“Fine, come on then,” Sam said, unlocking the collar but leaving the demon-trapped cuffs on his wrists. Dean followed behind, the point of what Crowley assumed was the demon killing knife, pressed against his spine. “One wrong move and I will end you right here,” Dean said, a gleeful tone in his voice. "Where are you taking me? What did I do this time?" Sam just walked ahead of them quietly his head bowed in a solemn posture. The strange trio made their way up through the bunker to the door outside. Apparently the Winchesters had been spending some time outside of their so-called “Batcave.” A small clearing had been created with a picnic table and a grill under a small pavilion. “Well, well, well. Someone’s been busy eh Squirrel?” Crowley said, a sarcastic grin on his face Dean poked him harder with the knife. “Hey! I worked hard on this so shut your cakehole!” Crowley and Sam shared an eyeroll.   
Sam led Crowley to the picnic table and attached his cuffs to a small ring on the top of the table. “I thought you might like some outside time,” the taller Winchester said softly sitting heavily across from the demon. Crowley was stunned. “Um, well. Thanks, Moose I appreciate it.” I’d forgotten what sun was I think…” he trailed off lost in his memories once more. The image of his encounter with Rose was so vivid, so real. He could still smell her on the air. He sighed aloud. A touch of sorrow crept into the sigh. He hated these emotions. He had always had what could equate as a soft spot for Rose. He thought of her laugh. Sinister but sweet..in her own way. He chuckled to himself. "There something we ain't gettin?" Dean seemed impatient in his response to the unheard joke he found Crowley smiling at. "Just thinking of times past. Lovers lost." Although, with this dream he'd had he didn't feel like the love was indeed lost. He knew he was with Rose. He was sure of it. There is no way that was just a dream. He hadn't had a dream since he'd been sent to hell long before he was a demon, but he still knew that that was a memory. Or was it a current experience. He vowed to get to the bottom of this new mystery, somehow. Hopefully, he would do it without these two knowing. He would hate more than anything to need their help. Especially since he knew asking for their aid would be an effort in impossibility. 

Rose was frantic. One minute Crowley was sitting next to her on the sofa, the next he was gone. Just disappeared like he was never there. No hint of sulphur in the air made Rose wonder if she'd been dreaming. "No! Tha was real!" she muttered to herself as she made her way back to the upper levels of Hell. Her thoughts turned to what Crowley had said about the Winchesters. "This is all their fault!" she grumbled. With a toss of her hair she was standing in the spot she and Crowley had met only yesterday. Stooping to the ground she found sulphur from herself but none from the other demon. "Something isn't right..." she murmured to herself, dusting her hands on her jeans. Determined to get to the bottom of the problem she quickly appeared outside 221 B Baker Street. Rose figured Sherlock was probably her best bet. she impetuously banged on the door. "Sherlock! John! I need to talk to you. Answer the door! I'm only knocking because you were nice, but you know I can just bust it down! Open up right--" " Miss Rose, I am not entirely abreast on the etiquette of a surprise visit as is practiced in your infernal home, but here in the jolly ole you could at least allow me the courtesy of putting on my trousers before answering the door without the threats of property damage. How may I help you?" Rose barged in past the detective completely ignoring his lecture. "Something's wrong with Crowley."

**Author's Note:**

> This was born from too much spare time between myself and a friend.


End file.
